


Martian Flu

by handwrittenhello



Category: The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Bad Jokes, Crew as Family, Illnesses, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Book(s), Sickfic, Team Bonding, Vomiting, haha not really, it gets a whole lot gayer in the second chapter, mysterious Mars virus, there's a somewhat scientific explanation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handwrittenhello/pseuds/handwrittenhello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mark returns to the <em>Hermes</em>, he starts feeling kind of sick. The whole crew, including him, thinks most of it can be attributed to Mars, and that he just has to adjust to life in space again. But instead of getting better after a few days, he gets worse.</p><p>Luckily, Beck is there to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a comment [sasstronautmarkwatney](http://archiveofourown.org/users/msindyjones/pseuds/sasstronautmarkwatney) made about "mysterious Mars viruses". I took it and ran with it, and here we are. 
> 
> I'm going with the book ending, because I personally like it better. The movie was still AMAZING, though. If you haven't seen it, then go do that!
> 
> This is my first fic for the Martian; feedback would be much appreciated! Unbeta'd, so if you catch any mistakes, please tell me, and I'll fix them.

After Mars, after the modified MAV and after he was back with his crew on the _Hermes,_ Mark lay in Beck’s bunk, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. He updated his log, before sighing heavily, wincing when the action caused a spike of pain in his abused ribs.

Beck walked back in only a few moments later, carrying an armful of medical equipment. It looked like hours of fun tests were in Mark’s future.

“So, good news and bad news. Which do you want first?” Beck asked, dumping the supplies on the small table opposite the bunk.

“Surprise me,” Mark said.

“Well, the x-rays showed you broke two ribs. On the other hand, you’re not in immediate danger of puncturing a lung anymore, now that we’ve got you stable.”

“Thank god for that. Wouldn’t want for you all to miss out on my jokes,” Mark said.

Chris smiled. “Well, as you’ve told us multiple times, you are the funniest man alive.”

“I believe I said ‘on the planet’,” he corrected, but his smile dropped. It was a little too soon to be thinking about Mars.

Beck caught on, and quickly changed the subject. “The painkillers should start working any minute now. Can you feel any difference?”

Now that the doctor mentioned it, it did feel less painful. Mark asked if he could try that shower. “Though I may need a little help,” he admitted.

Together they floated towards the bathrooms, Beck pushing Mark carefully until they got to an area with gravity. It took a couple of seconds for him to adjust to the change, malnutrition not helping any.

Beck waited just outside the door the entire time Mark was in the shower, unwilling to leave in case Mark needed his help. The shower was far past the standard regulated time, but Beck figured that he was owed it, after nearly a year and a half without such luxuries.

Beck was just about to check on Mark when the water shut off. “Hey, Beck, can you help me with--” and then a squeak, a crash. Beck rushed into the bathroom. Mark was lying on the ground, surrounded by a small pool of water.

Frantically, he rushed over, distantly noting that at least Mark was still conscious. “Watney! What happened? Are you okay?”

“Ow. Yeah, I'm fine. Must have slipped in that puddle or something. At least I grabbed a towel first,” he grinned. He started to sit up, but then immediately dropped back, pressing a hand to his head.

“What is it? Did you hit your head? Your ribs?” Beck didn't want to think about the kind of damage that could have been done in the fall. Punctured lungs, a concussion, internal bleeding…

Mark shook his head. “Really dizzy,” he gasped. Shit, that could be any number of things. However, Beck thought he knew the cause.

“How hot of a shower did you take?” Beck asked.

“Pretty hot,” Mark admitted.

“Your body isn't used to extreme temperatures after spending so much time in a controlled environment. Hot showers can often trigger dizziness because of the blood vessels dilating,” Beck explained. He helped Mark to sit up, supporting him gently with a hand on his skeletal back.

The dizziness passed slower than he would've liked, but that was to be expected, considering how malnourished Mark was. Beck slowly helped him to his feet, but downright refused to let go entirely.

Mark hobbled to the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Beck couldn't tell if he disliked what he saw. Maybe he was just taking it in. He touched a hand to the scraggly beard eating half of his face.

“Do you want to shave?” Beck asked.

Mark snapped out of his trance. “Yeah, looking like a caveman is getting kind of old.” He sat down on the edge of the sink and leaned back against the wall, trying to provide some relief to his ribs, The painkillers were working great, but there was only so much drugs could do for a man.

Beck dug out the razor and shaving cream, while Mark closed his eyes. Of course; he must be exhausted, and the adrenaline had finally had time to wear off.

He tried valiantly to stay awake, but fell into a doze before Beck had even finished spreading the shaving cream. Beck hastily shaved off the rest of his beard, gently shaking Mark’s shoulder to wake him up afterwards.

Mark shuffled like a zombie to the ladder, looking up mournfully once he got there. Beck took one look at him, made an executive decision, and yelled, “Martinez! Come here and help me with something?”

Martinez floated towards them, breaking into a huge smile when he saw Mark. “Thank God you got rid of whatever dead thing was attached to you! Now I don’t have to smell it every time I go near you.”

“Fuck you, Martinez,” Mark said, but he was smiling too.

“Help me lift him up,” Beck directed Martinez.

“Wait, what? What are you guys—no!” Mark shouted as they (gently) boosted him up the ladder. “Guys, I can walk, it’s fine,” Mark lied.

“Nope, doctor’s orders. From now on, you’re not going anywhere without someone helping you. You probably shouldn’t have been this long out of bed in the first place,” Beck admitted.

“Ugh, anything but house arrest, please,” Mark begged. They passed Commander Lewis on their way, and Mark turned his pleading face to her. “Commander! You have to help me.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” she asked, confused.

“Dr. Bossy Beck has imprisoned me in the med bay. My life is over, I’m gonna die of boredom!” Mark said dramatically, waving his arms. The effect was somewhat ruined by the zero gravity.

“Oh, really?” She raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what he thinks is best, then that’s it.” She had shifted into Serious Commander Mode, but then switched to an easy, teasing manner. “Besides, I’ll make sure you have plenty of company. You owe us some time.”

Mark grinned. He opened his mouth as if to give a witty retort, but then promptly turned a worrying shade of green. Beck recognized the signs, and grabbed a nearby barf bag right before Mark lost what little food he’d had in his stomach.

He soon ran out of anything to vomit, though, and was left gagging up bile while Martinez rubbed his back soothingly.

They got him back to Beck’s bunk as quickly as possible, Beck hoping that the g’s would help calm his rebelling stomach.

Probably just motion sickness, or something like it, Beck thought. Still, he took Mark’s blood pressure, sugar levels, and heart rate to be safe. He didn’t like what he saw, but most of it could be attributed to Mars and his recent sickness. He set Mark up with a saline drip to rehydrate him, and then left him sleeping.

Lewis stopped him before he got much farther. “What's wrong with him?”

“I'm hoping it's only his body readjusting to the changes in gravity, but I need to run a few tests just in case.”

“Okay. Want me to keep him company while you do?”

“He's sleeping right now, but if you could keep an eye on him, I'd appreciate it. I’m worried about what the isolation may have done to him, so I’d rather not leave him alone at all, if we can help it.”

“Of course.” She opened the door as quietly as she could, and was rewarded when Mark didn't even stir. She pulled a chair up next to the bunk, and began to work on her laptop.

There was a gentle knock at the door a few minutes later, but when Lewis looked up, she saw not Beck, but Johanssen, looking concerned.

“I heard about what happened from Martinez. Is he alright?” she whispered.

Lewis shut the door behind her when she left the bunk to give Mark some quiet. “He’s sleeping right now; Beck went to run more tests, trying to figure out if it’s anything to be concerned about.” Their conversation was interrupted by a moan coming from the sleeping figure inside, which turned into a low whimper, then muted words that the women could barely make out.

“Airlock… have to… plants… no! No!” In only a few seconds Mark’s pleasant sleep had changed into a Mars-fuelled nightmare. Lewis rushed inside to wake him up while Johanssen hurried to get Beck, bursting into the lab. Beck didn’t even need to ask any questions; he took one look at her face and raced towards Mark.

By the time they both got there, Mark had woken up, but was shaking and sweating, and generally still looking out of it. He barely seemed to register the entrance of two more people, and only tore his thousand-yard stare away from the wall when Beck crouched down next to the bed.

“You with us, Mark?” he asked gently. Mark nodded, and Beck noted the lack of a verbal response. Really not a good sign. “Mars?” Another nod.

Mark seemed to visibly gather himself, then let out a shaky laugh. “I’m finally safe for the first time in a year and a half, and Mars is still fucking with me.”

Beck smiled too, but if it was a bit hollow, then no one commented on it. He was still feeling the guilt over pronouncing Mark dead on Sol 6. He would probably never be completely over it, but if he could hide it well enough, then nobody else needed to worry about it.

Thankfully, Lewis spoke up before Beck had to think of something to say. “We won’t let it, Mark if it’s the last thing we do,” she vowed, certain that everyone else shared the same sentiment. Johanssen nodded firmly, brow set in determination.

Beck found his voice then. “I want one of us to be with you at all times, from now on,” he decided. “Hopefully it will help minimize the chances of flashbacks, nightmares, things like that. I can take first shift.”

Lewis frowned. “You're running yourself ragged; you need to rest before you wear yourself out.” When he looked as if he was about to protest, she added, “You're no use to any of us if you're only awake by sheer willpower. I’ll get Vogel in here; he should be coming off duty right about now.”

And that was how Mark found himself in Beck’s bunk with a slightly too overprotective German for company. He couldn’t bring himself to complain, however; it was nice not having to constantly be on alert, to know that someone else had his back and was looking out for him. Besides, Vogel’s stories about his children were only rivaled by Martinez’s in humor.

“And then, _die kleinen Affen_ , they got into the chocolate!” Mark’s ribs hurt from trying not to laugh so hard. Tears were practically streaming down his face, and if he weren’t confined to the bed, he would have fallen off it and been, what was that old phrase? ‘Rolling on the floor laughing.’

He broke into a coughing fit, triggered by his lungs, he was sure. He noticed a soreness starting in his throat as well, but that was probably from the abuse he’d put it through while being pulled into the ship by Vogel. He’d screamed so loud, he would have been surprised if his throat _didn’t_ hurt.

“No more, no more!” Mark begged. They talked about other stuff that wouldn’t cause bodily harm to Mark, until he fell asleep again. Vogel stared at the sleeping astronaut, unable to help himself; they had all gone so long thinking he was dead that having him here, now, was a miracle.

Over in Johanssen’s bunk, Beck lay wide-awake. Sure, he was physically exhausted, but that didn’t stop his mind from remaining in a hyperactive state, constantly running over lists of symptoms and illnesses Mark could have. After a full half hour of trying, Beck admitted defeat and got up to get his laptop.

He checked to see if his tests had finished running first, and saw that the blood work had finished analysis.

Cholesterol: low, blood sugar: low, electrolytes: low. Not ideal, but again, it could be attributed to starving and then the recent vomiting. Beck moved on. Everything else seemed to be in place, with the exception of one foreign substance he found. He frowned, bringing up a more detailed status report.

He read through it, then read it a second time, wanting to be sure he was understanding what he was seeing.

With a bad feeling in his stomach, he brought up another report of Mark’s preliminary tests. He’d assumed everything could be attributed to his experiences on Mars, but what if…

He leapt out of the bunk, hurrying as fast as he could to get to Mark and Vogel. Along the way, he radioed the rest of the crew, warning them to stay away from Mark. They were confused, but agreed to do as he asked until he could explain further.

If Beck was right, then he had done a lot more harm than good in the last few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Die kleinen Affen' means 'the little monkeys'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck explains what's wrong with Mark, and Johanssen shamelessly ships them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promised this chapter over a week ago, and then Thanksgiving break and schoolwork happened. Oops. I hope you like it anyway, regardless of how late it is!
> 
> P.S. Unbeta'd.

Beck checked on Mark first, noting with some relief that he was still sleeping, and somewhat peacefully, too. Thank god for the small miracles. He would be fine during the short time it would take the doctor to explain his inferences to the crew.

They had all gathered in the rec area, save Mark, for obvious reasons. Beck placed his laptop on the table and sat down, wondering how to begin. _The beginning is usually the best place,_ as Mark would say.

“It turns out that Mark’s condition has actually gotten worse since he first got back to the _Hermes._ From what I can tell, his body is having an adverse reaction to the bacteria already on the ship.”

“But how can that be?” Vogel asked. “It’s nothing his body hasn’t already encountered before.”

“My guess is that because he spent so long in isolation, without any other humans or their bacteria around, his immune system can’t deal with the sheer amount of ‘new’ bacteria floating around, even if it is harmless.”

“So what do we do?” Martinez pitched in. Everybody else nodded in agreement.

“I’d like to quarantine Mark, but unfortunately, the best we can do is to keep him in one room with limited contact from the rest of us. I’d recommend only one or two people be around him, tops, at least until we start to gradually expose him to more bacteria.”

Again his proposal was met with nods from everyone. After they discussed a few other things, mostly about Mark, they dispersed to do various other jobs around the ship. Blowing out the VAL had taken a toll on the ship, and they were constantly finding things to fix. Not for the first time, Beck wished that their resident mechanical engineer was up and active.

He travelled to his bunk, intent on giving Mark a healthy dose of antibiotics, and more pain medication. The previous dose would have worn off by now, and Beck didn’t want to risk Mark waking up from another nightmare and injuring himself.

He didn’t have to worry. Mark was still out cold, snoring. Beck grimaced; the last time he’d heard Mark snore, it had been back on Earth, in their first year of training. He’d caught a cold, and his nose had been so stuffed that every time he talked it sounded like he was speaking through a pillow.

Mark only woke briefly, smiling when he saw Beck standing there. Then his face contorted, and an awful-sounding cough rattled deep in his chest. He sat up as the coughing got worse, wet and seeming extremely painful, especially with the cracked ribs.

Luckily, the coughing fit didn’t last very long. Beck knew that there could be damage caused, especially if it continued to happen, and the risk of pneumonia had increased exponentially with Mark’s compromised immune system. It sounded as if there might be some fluid build-up, and if Mark started coughing up any mucus or blood, they would have a serious problem.

“What’s up, doc?” Mark wheezed.

“I’ve got bad news.” Beck proceeded to tell him all they had discussed earlier. “On top of that, I think the infection is in your lungs. It’s probably a form of pneumonia, as indicated by your blood-test results, and unfortunately, the only thing I can do is give you antibiotics and try to lessen the symptoms. Also,” Beck winced, “we ran out of cough syrup.”

“Fuck,” Mark thoughtfully added.

“Basically. It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, that’s all I can say.” He finished fiddling with the IV and fetched some Ibuprofen for the fever that was sure to strike soon, as with any bacterial infection.

As Beck expected, Mark fell into a fitful but much-needed sleep not long after. He debated staying with Mark to prevent nightmares versus not exposing him to any more bacteria, but then figured that first of all, Mark had already been exposed to so much bacteria that it wouldn’t make much of a difference if he was in the same room as him. Second of all, Mark was currently sleeping _in his bed,_ and it really didn’t get much more personal than that.

Mind made up, he sat down in the chair, trying to get comfortable. They were great for working in, great back support and everything, but didn’t allow for much other than a ramrod-straight spine.

Exhaustion quickly overtook him once he managed to find a semi-comfortable state, and before he knew it, he too was drifting off to the sound of Mark’s shallow breathing.

 

 

LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 692

_It’s been four days since I got sick, but this is the first time I’ve actually been able to sit up and write. Apparently, broken ribs don’t like it too much when they’re forced to cough up disgusting amounts of mucus and other crap._

_This is also the first time I’ve had a full night’s sleep. Sleep deprivation and fever dreams don’t go well together, I’ve discovered. Let’s just say that some potentially embarrassing things were said, and leave it at that._

_(Of course it had to be Chris I was waxing poetic about, and of course he was the one who volunteered to babysit me. When he told me that I’d been talking in my sleep, I must have turned redder than the surface of Mars, from how hot my face felt.)_

_Anyway, now that I’m finally starting to feel better, Chris is lifting the quarantine to allow one more person to see me. I can’t wait to talk with the rest of the crew._

_Though, it has been nice spending some quality time with Chris alone, incoherent moments aside. The way his eyes crinkle whenever he smiles…_

_Oh my god, I am **so** fucked. _

_There’s no way I can be with Chris! He and Johanssen were practically made for each other, and Lewis would never let anything fly under her command. Not to mention I don’t know if he even likes me back. I mean, he_

“Feeling better?” Johanssen asked from where she was leaning in the doorway. Mark looked up in surprise; he hadn’t even noticed her standing there.

“Eh, more or less. I don’t have a fever anymore, and the cough is better.”

“When you put it that way, pneumonia doesn’t sound too bad,” Johanssen said, coming into the room and sitting in the chair Beck had abandoned in favor of taking a shower and sleeping in a real bed while Johanssen was spending time with Mark.

Mark hadn’t realized just how much time Beck had devoted to him until he wasn’t there anymore. He felt kind of bad for taking up so much of his time that could have been spent working on the experiments NASA had assigned him.

Both of them would have a lot of catching up to do.

Mark and Johanssen talked for a little while about his plants (which Martinez had been assigned to take care of; he would be lucky if they weren’t dead when he got back), then the topic turned inexplicably to Beck.

“Oh come on, you must have seen the way he looks at you!” Johanssen said dramatically. “And you didn’t see him after we launched. We were all really broken up about it, but he was probably the worst out of all of us.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” he protested, not daring to give voice to his thoughts, the ones that were currently screaming and running around in circles. _Could it be could it be could it be maybe!_

“Mark, I’ve seen widows at funerals who looked better than he did. I’m telling you, there’s something there.”

“What about you? You can’t tell me there isn’t something going on between you guys, I'm not blind.”

“Yeah, I may have had a crush on him at one point. _Had_ being the key word there.”

“What, you don’t anymore? How come?”

“Because I know that he likes you, doofus! I won’t be that crazy jealous ex-girlfriend made out to be the villain. As long as you two are happy, I’m happy. Being in space for three years has made me realize there’s SO MANY more fish in the sea. Plus, I don’t know that I could handle being in a relationship with any of you guys. No offense, but I know things about all of you that I don’t even know about my family members.” Mark laughed.

Beck chose that moment to come back into the room, bearing yet another dose of antibiotics. They immediately shut up, and Mark felt like a teenager caught giggling about his crush.

“I see you two are enjoying yourselves,” Beck said, setting up the new IV.

“Beth is my only source of gossip around here,” Mark informed him. “You wouldn’t even tell me how my plants are doing!”

“I told you they were fine, what more do you need?”

“’Fine’ is not an accurate description! ‘Fine’ could mean on their last leg, but hey, at least they're not dead yet! ‘Fine’ could mean growing out of control and about to take over the ship!”

“I highly doubt anything like that happening, considering how much Martinez was stressing over those plants.”

Mark snorted. “They're not that hard to take care of. He has a kid, for Christ’s sake! He should be able to keep a few ferns from dying.”

“Tell him that.”

He hadn’t noticed it, but throughout the exchange, Johanssen had been steadily moving to the door, trying to sneak out and presumably leave the two of them alone. She slipped out silently, and Mark didn’t call her on it, but he was going to be talking to her later.

“Take off your shirt, I want to take a look at your ribs,” Beck requested.

“Whoa man, I don’t put out on the first date,” Mark joked, pulling the shirt over his slowly. It was easier than it had been before, but sudden movements still caused pain.

Beck sat down and started gently pressing on his midsection. “How does this feel?” he asked.

“It fucking hurts, what do you th—ow!” he yelped as Beck pressed on a particularly sore spot.

“Sorry.” Beck let up a bit, following up with some breathing exercises and light stretching that he swore would help with keeping the pneumonia from getting worse. It mostly felt like Mark was being stabbed in the chest each time, but it was what the doctor ordered, so he did it without complaint. Well, with not a lot of complaint. Okay, lots of complaining, but he didn’t swear like a sailor at Beck every time, so he considered that a success.

Afterwards, Mark lay back, sweating despite the easy intensity of the exercises. “I swear I'm not doing it to torture you, Mark, no matter how it might feel,” Beck said.

“Unnhh,” Mark groaned, hoping Beck understood what he meant. He lay in silence for a few more minutes, trying to regain his breath to speak. “Has Johanssen talked with you lately?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.

“I’ve talked with everyone lately. That’s what happens when there are only six people for millions of miles in every direction.”

“Smartass.”

“If you mean, has she talked with me about a certain subject lately, then you’ll need to be more specific.”

Mark dithered, unsure about how to say it. “Has she talked with you about… relationships?”

“Relationships?” He frowned. “I guess so. We talked about dating and stuff, what we might do once we get back to Earth. Why?”

Was he not getting the big, obvious hint? “Did she tell you her theories about the two of us?”

Beck blushed. “Yeah, apparently we would be really cute together. Ignore her, it’s nothing.”

Mark’s heart sank. Beck wasn’t interested. He forced a laugh. “Yeah, how ridiculous.”

~*~

The next morning, Johanssen dropped by again, looking positively outraged. “What the hell, Watney? Explain to me why Beck was in my bunk last night, moping around and generally looking like his heart was crushed?”

Mark threw his hands in front of him in surrender. “I don’t know! He’s not interested in me, according to the discussion we had yesterday.”

She growled. “Oh, you two, I swear!” She glared at him. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

She returned dragging a confused Beck behind her, and she was right, he _did_ look kind of mopey. “What’s wrong? Mark, are you okay?”

“Mark is fine, besides his inability to properly communicate his feelings,” Johanssen said sternly.

“I object to that statement,” Mark interjected.

“Now, since both of you are apparently incapable of saying what you actually mean, I’m staging an intervention.” She took a deep breath. “Mark, Beck likes you. He told me a couple of days ago.” She turned to Beck. “Beck, Mark likes you back. I would suggest you two sit down and have a nice long chat about it, but who even knows where that would go.”

Mark barely even heard the last half of her speech. He was too busy staring at Beck, dumbstruck. Beck looked back at him with the same expression.

“I’m just gonna… leave the two of you alone.” She was out the door faster than you could say ‘potatoes’.

Mark was the first to break the silence. “So… all of that yesterday, you didn’t mean any of it?”

Beck immediately started to shake his head. “Nope. I was afraid of scaring you off,” he confessed, breaking into a slightly embarrassed smile. “Obviously, that didn’t work.”

Mark laughed. “Nope. But seriously, this is probably the best news I’ve gotten since I knew you guys were coming back for me. And to think that it’s all because Johanssen can’t keep her nose out of our business.”

“I owe her one, big time.” Beck bit his lip in an unfairly attractive way that did _things_ to his hindbrain, which hadn’t had a lot of opportunities in the past year and a half. He lunged for Beck suddenly, ignoring the protests of his ribs, and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was almost awkward, because he couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could Beck. They ended up in a weird half-hug, Mark practically on top of Beck.

He shifted, and the movement triggered a coughing fit. He suddenly remembered, _oh yeah, pneumonia is a thing that exists._

Beck immediately pulled back with a guilty look on his face. “Oh my god, what was I thinking, you're still sick!”

“No,” he forced out in between coughs, “it’s fine. My fault.” Beck looked like he disagreed, but said nothing. The coughing spell only lasted a few more seconds, and he gasped for breath, eyes watering.

“That should only last a few more days,” Beck reassured him, slipping back into Doctor Mode.

“Good,” Mark said grumpily. “I want to be able to kiss you.”

 

LOG ENTRY: MISSION DAY 725

_Success! I'm now completely pneumonia-free, cough included. I’ve also started to gain back the muscle mass I lost, and I'm well on my way to being my target weight._

_To top it all off, Beck and I are officially dating. Lewis is surprisingly okay with it, as long as we do all of our work. I suspect she’s known the whole time, but I'm gonna pretend otherwise._

_Basically, I never imagined life could be this great, especially after Mars._

_Now I'm gonna go see if I can persuade Beck to watch Star Wars tonight. He claims it’s corny to watch space movies in space, but I think I can convince him. Watney out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this couldn't actually happen, because once your body encounters a certain strain of bacteria, it learns to fight it off. That's why vaccines work :) Also, it's highly unlikely that anyone would have a reaction to 'safe' bacteria. 
> 
> But hey, this is just a story, and I hope you all liked reading it as much as I liked writing it! 
> 
> Comments give me life.


End file.
